by Crowe, Liz
He clicked over. “Hey, I’m busy what the hell do you want?”
Jack chuckled in his ear. “Yeah, I would hope so. But, I have a little guy on my lap who is sort of unhappy and might benefit from hearing your voice.”
“Okay, put him on.”
He smiled at the sound of his son’s voice. Lila emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, pointing at the phone. He handed it over, smacked her ass then jumped in the shower. By the time he emerged, she sat, dressed, sipping tea. “He okay?” he asked, pointing to the phone.
“Yes, but I wish we had him with us, sort of.”
He tugged on jeans and a button down shirt and pulled his wet hair back into a ponytail at his neck. “I know.” He kissed her, and helped her to her feet. “But we need this break. It will be fine. And he will be, too.”
But, he nearly turned in the opposite direction from the freeway that would take them to the airport, because he wanted the little boy just as much as she did. Lila grabbed his hand and kissed it, then put it on her stomach. “You’re right; we’ll be drowning in diapers again soon enough. Let’s go, you food celebrity you. Onward to the adventure.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Jack walked in his front door and watched as Sara fiddled with the ends of her hair and finished her phone conversation. The boys had lived through their week together, Rob and Lila had returned and all seemed back to normal. The show wouldn’t start filming for a year, but the film crew would be all over Ann Arbor and The Local for the next few months getting tons of B-roll, whatever the hell that was.
He’d just dropped Katie and Maddie at the bus that would take them to soccer camp for a week and her parents had Brandis for the weekend. He wandered into the kitchen, grabbed a water bottle and drained it. Something was bugging him, and he wanted to keep the vow he’d made not to keep anything from her. She joined him grabbing his bottle and helping herself to it. “So, look at us. Empty nesters. Whatever shall we do with ourselves?” She smiled and stood in front of him, her body mere inches from his.
He held her close, kissed her, relieved all over again that she’d taken the initiative that weekend and forced his hand, made him open up to her. He licked his way down her neck, cupped her breast. “I love it when you’re all sweaty.” They’d been a little wary around each other since her miscarriage. And with the memorial coming on the heels of that, they hadn’t actually made love since then. He’d been afraid of hurting her, and she seemed to need her space, not only for her body to heal but her heart. He hadn’t minded that much, and they’d kept talking. But, he was starting to feel a familiar lack of sex edginess.
Every nerve went on alert instantly at her touch. She ran her hand over the bulge under his zipper, lifted his shirt up and off, licking and sucking at his skin.
“Ah, Jesus,” he exhaled as she lowered his zipper, and shoved his jeans down. She fisted his shaft, then got to her knees and licked the fluid he could feel on the tip. He spread his legs, fisted his hands in her hair and let her suck him until he sensed the orgasm just over the horizon. He grabbed her arms and pulled her up. “Enough appetizer. I want the main course now, please, and thank you, very much.”
He tugged her shorts down, lifted her tee shirt and sports bra up and off, using his fingers and lips to tease her nipples into lovely hard peaks. “Yes,” she hissed as he sucked one and pinched the other one. She lifted one leg, wrapped it around him and ground her clit into his thigh.
“You are a very bad girl,” he said, still pinching one nipple. Her eyes were bright, her color high and his cock got even harder at the sight.
“Yes, I am.” She arched into him. “Please….”
“Say it again.” He growled into her neck, biting and sucking at her salty flesh.
“I’m bad. So bad. Baby….” He stopped, leaned back and narrowed his eyes at her.
“Who?”
She gasped when he shoved his thigh harder between her legs, giving her the contact she wanted, keeping his grip on her nipple. She squirmed. “So bad…Sir,” she whispered. He shivered, leaned in to kiss her once, and then stepped away.
“And what am I supposed to do about it, this badness?” He turned her slowly so she faced the large kitchen island, running his hand down her sides, to her hips, ass and thighs then back up again. She leaned over it, spread her legs, presenting the sweet pink of her sex to his gaze.
“I need to be spanked, Sir.” She looked over her shoulder at him, wiggling her hips.
“Hmm,” he said, dragging his hand from her hair, down the arch of her back to her ass. “Maybe.” He dipped between her legs, felt her readiness. His cock jumped when he leaned over and put his wet fingers to her lips.
“Please,” she whispered, pressing back against him. But he had to say something first, needed to get it off his chest.
“Fine,” he said, reaching for the rubber spatula in the island drawer. “But first you need to know something.” He flicked his wrist, let the paddle redden her skin once, then twice. She moaned, and arched back more. “I never got the re-check on purpose; after the vasectomy. And, when I went back to do it, they told me I needed another snip. So, I left.”
She squealed when he whapped her again, then fisted her hair with his other hand and slowly eased her head back. “God,” she moaned. “More, Sir, please.”
He smiled, gave her another couple of smacks, then dropped the spatula and put his palm over the heat of her skin. “I wanted that baby, Sara. So, I say, if we are meant to have another, we will.” She moaned as he reached around her to touch her hardened clit. He pressed it, stroked it, as he used the rough tug of her hair he knew she liked. He was about to explode all over her back, and he could smell her, knew enough about her cycle and chemistry to know that right now, at this moment they were drawn together by more than love. It was primal and their bodies were dancing towards an inevitable connection—one he wanted more than he wanted to draw a breath.
He put his foot inside hers, shoved her legs farther apart and let the head of his cock tease her clit. He slipped in, then out, slowly, loving the grip of her, the tight fist of her pussy all around him. “Fuck me. Sir,” She ground out pressing back and taking him all the way into her. He groaned, grabbed her hip.
“You are very bad. Bossing me like that.”
“I know,” She had her hands on the island. “You really ought to do something about it.”
He smacked her ass with his palm, hard. She shuddered, and pulsed, coating him with her juice and grunting with the force of her orgasm. He did it again, then draped over her, cupping her breasts and shoving into her. “Dear God,” he groaned as he tugged at her nipples, then slid one hand down to finger her clit again, wanting to hear it, smell it, feel it again.
“Do it, Jack. Fill me. I want it.” She whispered, but it was like a direct order to his libido and he jerked, shuddered and did exactly that, moaning and holding her close, his nose buried in her neck.
Sara stretched and rolled over on the bed, but Jack’s side was empty. She rubbed her eyes and noted that the sun had moved around to the west facing window of the bedroom. It had to be after five. “How long did you let me sleep?” she called out, figuring he was down in his office. The house was silent but for the thumping of the dog’s tail on the floor when he saw her coming down the hall. She was sore all over, but felt more sated, more physically content than she had in years. They’d finished up in the kitchen, eaten ice cream straight from the container, giggling like teenagers then ended up in the shower and on the bed, where he’d used his mouth skills to draw yet more orgasms out of her before pounding into her again.
She shivered, pulling a robe around her, recalling his words about “no re-snip.” Counting back she realized that they’d likely done it again, then had the simultaneous realization that it was okay. The scary, messy miscarriage had really thrown her. She had mourned the loss in a way she never thought she would. She put her hand on her flat stomach, pondering the reality of a third child at he
r age. She realized she’d be in good company when she pictured Suzanne’s blush and Craig’s happy face at Lila and Rob’s wedding. And, of course, Lila herself was due in just a few more months.
She heard the garage door open, then smiled at the sight of her tall, handsome, compelling, frustrating, creative, successful and aggravating spouse, with a couple of Whole Foods bags in his hands. “Went with ‘whole paycheck’ eh, Jack?” she asked using his name for the expensive gourmet grocery.
“Yeah, figured we should celebrate, you know, spend three hundred dollars on food and wine I could get at Meijer for a hundred and fifty. What can I say? I admire the nerve of them charging me that much.” He emptied the bags, put the beer and wine away, then rinsed off a huge container of strawberries.
“Mmm…my favorites,” she said, putting her arms around him from behind. He turned, kissed her deeply then put a red fruit to her lips. She bit down on it, and then laughed as he picked her up and sat her on the island and fed her strawberries, bites of dark chocolate, morsels of rich cheese, and sips of wine. She ran her fingers through his hair, placed some food between his lips. They talked about the soccer team, the kids, Rob’s new gig as star of a food show, Craig and Suzanne’s upcoming wedding. “So,” she said, finally pulling him close and feeding him a few bites of the picnic. “You want to turn me into a brood mare? Then what? You know, when I’m worn out.”
“I’ll put you to pasture dear, don’t worry. I won’t let you starve.”
She took the spoon from the bowl of whipped cream and stuck it to his nose. “Hey!” he yelped, dipped some out with his finger and tried to stick it in her ear.
She jumped down and ran down the hall, with him hot on her heels. They put the bowl of cream to good use in the bedroom, but she was more than a little sticky by the time they finished. They lay in the messy sheets, and she was about to drift off when he spoke.
“Sara,” he said, kissing her hair. “I love you.”
“I know,” she turned over, pulling him with her so they lay close, letting the ceiling fan cool their bodies. She put his hand on her belly. “And I’m okay with it. Considering you probably knocked me up passing me in the hall this morning. All this other effort was likely unnecessary.”
He kissed her shoulder. “Maybe, but damn was it fun.”
“Yeah.” She drifted off again. “It was.”
Later that month, they sat with the kids and watched Suzanne and Craig exchange vows and rings and a long, sexy kiss in front of about fifty people under a white tent in the Big House Beer Garden. They clapped, and tears streamed down her face at the sight of the tall, handsome blond man and the petite, feisty red head as they kept kissing, and kissing as the wolf whistles and catcalls started.
Later, she gave him a huge hug and clinked beer glasses with the man she had once loved, briefly if for no other reason than the fact that he was such a great fucking guy. “You’re a great fucking guy,” she said.
He smiled, kissed her cheek. “You’re not too bad yourself.”
“How’s she doing?” She looked over his shoulder at Suzanne who was chatting with some friends and had her hand resting unselfconsciously on the bump under her pretty yellow sundress. “No issues? I know she was a nervous wreck and didn’t want to do the amnio.”
Craig rolled his eyes. “She didn’t want to, but we did, and all seems well on that front. She gets really tired easily, of course, and is thirsty all the time, so I suspect she’s developing gestational diabetes. But, I’m monitoring it like a hawk.”
“Ow,” the woman in question dropped into the seat next to Craig. He looked at her, and Sara saw the worry dart across his eyes but then was proud of him when he didn’t overact.
“Feet hurt?” he asked, running his finger down her flushed face.
“No.” she sipped some water. “My back.”
“Again?” he stood, looking around as if he wanted everyone to leave. Suzanne pulled him back down.
“It’s okay, babe, calm down. You just got me all worked up with that ‘kiss the bride’ moment.” She patted his cheek. He smiled and Sara felt content, knowing they were finally going to be happy together.
“Okay, you guys, we are gonna take off.” She saw Jack with Brandis on his shoulders talking to Evan and Julie. All seemed well there, too. Now, if only Jack’s sister could get her love life sorted out. She gestured to her husband and he nodded. She kissed Suzanne’s cheek. “Keep us posted. Don’t overdo it. I want the ‘going to the hospital’ call. I mean it.”
Suzanne nodded. “Of course. We’ll let everyone know, never fear.”
Sara flushed and nodded, emotion clogging her throat. Damn she was a weepy mess lately. She put a hand on her own stomach, wishing for the very first time that there was indeed new life there, but she figured she had a while to wait to find out.
Craig put an arm around her shoulders and walked her over to Jack. The men shook hands and Brandis reached over to tug Craig’s shaggy hair. “Doc!” he yelped.
“Yep, that’s me.” He smiled. “Congratulations,” he said. Jack shot him a puzzled look as he slid the boy off his shoulders and to the ground where he promptly dropped to his hands and knees and chased some birds under the nearest table.
Jack put his arm around her. Craig held her hand. “You are positively glowing. I know I have a doctor’s radar but I’m pretty sure….”
She felt the blush cover her face. “Well….”
“You’ll be fine,” he kissed her hand then dropped it. “That last time was as fluke. It happens. There’s no reason you shouldn’t be able to carry this one to term.”
“Thanks, Doc,” Jack shook his hand. He nodded over to Suzanne. “Take care of her. She’s special.”
“I will,” Craig said as he made his way back over to his wife, grabbing Brandis and pulling him out from the table before he concussed himself standing up under it. “Watch it there little Jack.” He brushed the boy’s knees off and pointed him in a different direction before tugging Suzanne up from the chair and holding her close.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Maureen stared at the email, clutching her first cup of coffee, opened the attachment from an attorney’s office and stood, her face red with fury. “Mrs. Perkins,” she barked, “I need the Chamberlin file. Now.” She paced and sipped, gathering her thoughts about the fact that one of their best building clients was suing Keystone Construction for breach of contract. It took too long, they claimed, came in over budget, and they were not advised of overages in a timely manner. Fucking-A. She stopped, staring out the window of her office at the Ann Arbor street scene below. Anger roiled in her brain. She’d let Brian have that damn account even though her instincts had screamed at her to handle it herself. The guy had been with the company nearly ten years, but she didn’t like him, no matter what Jack said. He was a pompous woman-hater, pissed that Jack hadn’t named him as general manager and had endeavored to make her life a living hell ever since.
And now?
She slammed the cup down and re-read the message taking the file from her assistant without looking up from the screen. Mrs. Perkins stood nervously over her shoulder until Mo turned and handed her the cup, giving her an excuse to get the hell out. She hit Jack’s quick dial on her phone.
“Hey, sister,” he said, sounding like he was in a wind tunnel.
“That asshole has screwed us with the Chamberlin family.” She bit back the urge to say “I told you so.”
“What? What asshole? What happened?”
“Where are you, anyway? I can barely hear you.” She accepted the fresh coffee with a nod, irritated at Jack and everyone around her at the moment.
“Underneath the ground downtown Detroit trying to figure out if I can afford to build the stadium I want with the current lame infrastructure.”
She rolled her eyes. Her brother and his projects. “Whatever, listen, I’ve essentially been served and—”
“What? Served? Jesus, what happened?”
“If y
ou would get somewhere you could hear me I’ll tell you.”
“Okay, I’m out now. Fill me in.”
By the time she’d finished, he was cursing as much as she was. “Okay, bring him in to your office. I’ll be there to….”
“No, Jack. I’m handling it.”
There was a significant amount of silence. “Maureen, Brian is a jerk. You’ve said so yourself. I kept him on because I thought his pluses outweighed his minuses. I was wrong. Let me do it—”
“I am handling it. You made me head of the company. I won’t let him think when the going gets tough I call in my big brother.” Her face was hot and her chest hurt in anticipation of the confrontation.
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure, but I’m forwarding you this paperwork. It’s legalese, and last I checked that was your area.”
“Yeah, I’ll read it and draft a response. You get that ass hat in your office and make him tell you what happened. Have him bring all four of his subs in too at the same time. See if their stories square up. Then fire the fucker.”
“I think I knew that part without you telling me.”
“Okay. Sorry.”
“Talk soon,” her hands shook as she put the phone on her desk. “Mrs. Perkins, get Brian, Jim, Mike, Tony and Brad in here. Right now. No excuses.”
“Okay, hon,” the woman sang out.
She stood and paced, rubbing her hands together, then on the nubby linen of her skirt. She sat then stood up and paced some more, her brain whirling with possible scenarios. She’d been in charge of Keystone for nearly a year and was ready to start slashing and burning, now that she had her head around the scope and future of the company. She wanted to reduce the small renovation work, even a lot of the residential crap, and focus on the commercial and industrial work that had made Keystone a success years ago. Ann Arbor was ablaze with expansion, and that was where the money was, period. All the bullshit custom blah-blah McMansion crap that Jack and her dad had done in the fat years was gone, period. And the only people left who could afford it were pains in everyone’s ass—like the Chamberlins. But that was no excuse for over budget and time to the tune of a frivolous and annoying lawsuit.